Darkest Designs (7 page)

“What if we try it anyway?”

She pulled out an old portal she'd stashed in the pack a long time ago. Unfolding it, she found it led to Paxton's lab. She grinned and stood up. She placed the portal on the ground and reached out a hand to Dillon. “Dillon, step on this paper, please.”

He blinked. He reached out a hand. Grabbed hers and stepped on the paper.

***

Eric studied the trees and bushes of Storey's world as the black mist of the portal dissipated. It looked the same as the first time he'd ventured here. The size of the trees and the season all appeared to fit. But with the time shifts and new dimensions being created – he no longer trusted what stood before his own eyes. And how sad was that.

Before meeting Storey, life had been simple and complete…and boring. Now he felt so energized and alive. In ways he'd never experienced before and could hardly explain. But life thrummed through his veins now. Sure, so did worry and fear, but that was better than ennui.

And the weird thing was, he hadn't realized how lacking his previous life really had been. Ignorance really was bliss. He'd read that saying in the archives and had to admit there was some truth to it.

He walked the path to Storey's house, keeping a wary eye out. He should be in the right dimension and the right time frame, but as Storey had messed with things here, twisted time as the stylus had put it, he didn't know what to expect each time he came.

That brought back memories of Tammy, the little Louer child they'd rescued from her old home dimension. He grinned at the memory of her insatiable appetite. And her scream. He shuddered. That was very forgettable. At least he wished it were.

The house loomed ahead of him. He walked cautiously around to the front to see if any of the metal boxes Storey called cars were there. None. His breath gusted out in relief. That didn't mean no one was home, just meant there were likely less people at home. He stepped back into the trees and punched the coordinates for Storey's bedroom into his codex. He could have done it this way from the beginning, but the thought of porting into a stranger's bedroom while they were there made him cringe. With Storey having shifted time, there was no guarantee that he was in the same time as when Storey had lived here. The less he had to explain the better. And according to Storey, he should avoid capture at all costs. Something about not having the right identification or history. He shrugged. The black mist rose up around his shoulders, quickly blocking out the world around him. When it cleared he smiled. This was still Storey's bedroom.

The same bed, pictures on the wall, sketchbooks and paper tossed haphazardly around the room. So much of her personality permeated the room it made him smile. And then he froze. This was exactly like the first time he'd seen Storey's room. When only her mother lived with her here.

What had happened to the time twist where Storey's life had shifted, creating an alternate form of the reality she had lived? In the new reality, her father, whom she hadn't seen in a decade, now lived as if he'd never separated from her mother. And the family's religious beliefs and lifestyles were all different. For Storey, it had been incredibly unnerving. For Eric, it was just plain fascinating. Who knew how many realities co-existed out there.

But time was wasting. He stepped through and grabbed up anything he thought Storey might need. Some larger sheets of paper folded within a smaller sketch book and a sweater. She'd had everything she needed for the last trip to the Louers' dimension, and as far as he remembered, she'd still had her travelling pouch during that last jump with his father. But…that didn't mean she still had it. He still had his packets. He checked to make sure, but they were both there. Good. Now what else could they need?

As he rummaged through her desk he found several of her granola bars. Perfect! He snatched them up and wondered at the sensibility of going downstairs for more food. She had to be hungry and not knowing how long they'd be before getting out, he crept down the stairs and into the kitchen. The room was empty. He pulled cupboards open and studied their contents. Nothing looked familiar. He shrugged, and started filling his package with anything that looked edible. Then he opened the fridge and grinned when he saw a block of cheese. Tammy would be in heaven. As would her pet, Skorky. Those two had eaten anything and everything, but especially cheese.

He snagged the block and several apples and decided he'd taken enough time. He slipped out the kitchen door and ran to the treed area. Once under cover, he coded in Paxton's lab. Within minutes he stood inside the normalcy of his world, his mentor still huddled over his key board.

“Any news?” He asked striding forward.

Paxton swiveled, his features brightening as he saw Eric. “No. Nothing.”

Damn. Even as he registered the swear word, he realized using it no longer mattered. The simple rules he'd lived by all his life were overshadowed by the urgency of Storey's situation. “Then we have no option.”

He walked over to the monitor, noted the coordinates where Storey currently stood and punched them into his codex. “I'll send you a message as soon as I land.”

Not giving Paxton a chance to argue, Eric walked to the portal station and hit the button on his codex to take him to Storey. The last thing he saw as the smoke rose quickly to take him away, was the stricken look on Paxton's face.

S
torey stared as Dillon stood on the paper. On, not
in
. She groaned. She
needed
the portals to work. “Stylus, it didn't work.”

No. It can't.

“But I need it to work. This one was going to Paxton's lab. Would it be better to try for my dimension?” She searched through her packet for a portal to her bedroom.

No.

She sighed, trying hard to hold back the frustration and fear from overwhelming her. This couldn't be. “Okay,” she said slowly thinking, “We came from the Louers' new dimension. Then it makes sense to return that way. That pathway has to be relatively fresh – as compared to one which Dillon traveled so long ago. So in theory, we should have an easier time going back there.”

And she'd take that place over this one any day.

Silence.

“Correct?” She snapped, her voice sharper than she'd intended. Shit. Fear ate away at her nerves. She ran her fingers through her hair.

Possibly. We have no data to confirm that. Based on dimensional travel history, we do know it is easier to move through a pathway already forged.

Storey brightened. “Of course it is. Same as any path. The person who walks in the lead breaks the path and the person who comes behind will be able to walk easier. So therefore, we should take the same way back to where I was. In the portal between the Louers' caves and Paxton's lab.”

Excitement surged between her. She knew there'd be a way out of this. She just had to get her mind wrapped around the concept.

In theory.

She laughed. “Stylus, you are getting downright maudlin.”

We do not like the lack of data. Decisions should be made on facts.

“Sure, but like you said,” she added cheerfully, “We don't have any to go on. We will be the first. Therefore we are creating the data for you to store for others.”

She couldn't be sure, but it was almost as if the air lightened. She grinned. There was more personality from the stylus every day. There
were
souls in there. Such a fascinating concept.

“Now to test that theory, we have to try from the point where we arrived in this dimension.” She hesitated, then asked, “Do you agree with that logic?”

Yes.

She smiled, feeling much better. It always felt better to have others agree – even if they were both wrong. “Okay. So…we need to return to the physical location where we arrived. You have those coordinates.”

Yes.

Storey turned to look at Dillon. He had fallen asleep again. On the damn paper. She sighed and nudged his shoulder. He slept on. She nudged him harder. “Dillon? Wake up.”

He snuffled.

At least that's the way it sounded. Bizarre. “Dillon. It's time to go. Wake up please. I need to pick up that piece of paper.”

Dillon opened his eyes. Looked down, and stepped back. “Sorry,” he whispered. “So tired.”

Returning wasn't looking so easy. Storey started to realize just how much of a problem she had on her hand. She didn't know if Dillon would survive the trip. The biggest concern was that his physical body couldn't handle the travel or even worse, couldn't handle another reality. Gravity, atmosphere, and whatever else was different here would suddenly impact a body held in stasis for over a century. His muscles – would they even hold him upright after all this time? If she managed to get him out of here would he collapse and die in her arms?

Was he better off here? He was alive this way. If his existence here was life. Maybe down the road, Paxton's people could create the technology to come back here and find Dillon.

No. He's almost gone.

Shit.

“I'm his only hope, aren't I?”

We believe so.

Believe? Such an odd word for the stylus. Everything the stylus had spoken of before had been definite, based on facts. It had been sure, almost computerized in its analysis of problems and optimal solutions. Until this mess. This was a new scenario for the stylus. And it had no answers. Only suggestions.

She shrugged. “First, we have to return to where we arrived in the In-between.” And maybe in the meantime she'd come up with an answer. She spun around to reorient herself and grimaced. “Going back to where we arrived isn't going to be easy, is it?”

Consider this reality and your thoughts.

She paused and considered the stylus's words. And grinned. She scooped up the paper that Dillon had been standing on, grabbed Dillon's hand and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Calmly. She thought herself back to the point where she'd arrived in the In-between. She let the knowledge that she could create her reality through her thoughts settle deeper into her psyche. Letting the memory resurface of having fallen because she'd imagined herself to be falling, and having stopped her fall because she'd told herself she'd stopped. Therefore she was back where she'd first arrived because she imagined herself to be.

With her eyes still closed, she asked, “Stylus, where are we?”

The stylus made a series of clicking noises then a long hum sounded. She didn't know if that was good or bad, but it felt…good.

We are back where we began.

She took several little steps for joy. “Perfect.”

She glanced at the almost comatose Dillon at her side. “Are there others here in this dimension that I should be trying to save?”

We don't believe so.

“Can you run a scan and see? Maybe look for heat signatures. Something?”

We will do so. We can do more than search for heat signatures. And have been since we first landed.

“Good.”

You are not alone.

She froze. “I have Dillon here, so I am not alone. Do you mean there is someone else here?”

A Toran.

She grinned. Then her grin fell off. “Of course there is a Toran. Dillon is here.”

Dillon is a Louer.

“He's what?” she exclaimed. “He doesn't look anything like a Louer.”

He is as they were originally.

Oh God. She stared in shock at Dillon. “But,” she whispered, “He looks like Eric.”

Eric is a Toran.

“So what's the difference?” She threw up her hands in frustration.

The faction they originated from.

Faction? Didn't that mean something political or religious in her world?

On Toran a faction is a Clan, a group formed of both family and political ties.

“So there were two groups of the same people. Half called themselves Torans and the other half called themselves Louers? The two fought, the Torans won and enslaved the Louers. The Louers fought back and were banished.”

Yes.

Simple and sad. As she stared at Dillon, she realized he had to have been born after the war that enslaved the Louers. How had he been spared? “Stylus, how is it that Dillon is a Louer and free? Or was he a slave?”

He was free. No one knew he was a Louer. Dillon's name is in the database as having gone lost.